The Perfect Latte
by brookemopolitan
Summary: "It's like this is our Good Morning Kiss … a way of saying, without actually using words: 'Good morning, my heart. How are you doing'" -Nathan Fillion on the significance of coffee to Castle and Beckett's relationship. Castle teaches Beckett to make coffee. Season 5, no specific spoilers.


Many thanks to the lovely Tadpole24 for taking a look at this for me.

Disclaimer: C'mon guys, really?

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The bullpen was deserted. Beckett had sent Ryan and Esposito home hours ago, and any uniforms on shift had been tangled up in a messy triple homicide being handled by Karpowski's team.

"You know you don't have to be here, Castle," Beckett reminded him for the umpteenth time, barely looking up from the financials she'd been poring over for the last four and a half hours solid (their vic had held a PhD in economics- his records were damn near impossible to follow).

"Sure I do," Castle replied, looking up from his latest game of Words With Friends (Where he was steadily kicking Alex Conrad's ass). "You're my partner. I'm not going to bail on you," he reached over to pick up her empty coffee mug. "Besides, why would I go home when everything I want is right here?" He added in a husky whisper. "Trust me, this is better for everyone." Castle picked up his own coffee cup and stood, turning toward the tiny kitchenette.

"I'll make coffee," Kate volunteered, standing up and stretching, a tiny sliver of her stomach exposed as her arms reached above her head. "My ass is so numb its about to fall off." She strutted towards the sink, coffee mugs in hand, hips swaying gently in an effort to get the blood flowing down her legs (and not at all because she could feel the eyes of her partner on her rear end).

She made quick work of washing and drying the pair of mugs, before eyeing off Castle's stainless steel Italian monstrosity. Fourteen year old kids used machines like this all the time. She was a university educated homicide detective with one of the highest clearance rates in the state. Surely she could handle making a few coffees.

She went to adjust the steam wand and hissed out a curse that would make a sailor blush when the metal burnt her finger.

"Kate, stop," Castle ordered from his position, leaning against the doorframe. "You're going to hurt yourself." He stepped up behind her, positioning himself so that their hips were flush. "Let me show you."

Kate dug her elbow into his ribcage. "Castle! I am at _work!_ Let go of me!" She ordered in a stage whisper.

"Kate, we are the only two people here. We have been for a few hours now. Live a little," Castle urged, his mouth next to her ear.

Kate couldn't deny the visceral way her body responded to Castle's proximity. She could already feel the tension draining from her muscles as his large frame and intoxicating smell enveloped her own. "Fine," she agreed.

"Now, the first step to a decent cup of coffee is in the beans," Castle reached over and flicked the grinder on. "The beans should always be fresh," he added, dumping out whatever was left in the basket of the machine.

"Once you've filled the portafilter, remember to tamp the grounds down," Castle grabbed Kate's hand, closing it around the tamper. "The beans should be packed down so that they're level," He paused to adjust Kate's posture. "And your shoulder should be at a ninety degree angle to the bench as you tamp. I wouldn't want you developing a wrist injury," He added seriously.

"No?" Kate asked innocently.

"Absolutely not," he stated. His fingers closed over hers, gently applying pressure to squash down the ground Arabica beans.

"Now the coffee burns quickly, so once you've clipped the handle into the machine, be prepared to run the shots straight away." Castle placed the mugs underneath the spout of the portafilter, and flicked the on button. "Espresso should always have that golden layer on the top. It's called the crema, and if it isn't there, the coffee loses its smoothness," Castle instructed.

Beckett barely managed to contain her whimper when he stepped away.

"Now for the most critical part," Castle announced, moving to the refrigerator to pull out a carton of milk. He stepped back behind Beckett, taking advantage of her curtain of hair to nip playfully at her earlobe.

"Always start with cold milk," He instructed. His hand covered Beckett's, wrapping around the handle of milk to pour into the metal jug. He tugged their wrists up. "That's probably all the milk you want," he murmured. "It'll expand."

"Now be careful when you do this," Castle admonished in a way that made Kate wonder if he ever spoke to a miniature Alexis in that tone of voice, "the rubber wrapped on the steam wand is there so that you can move it," he explained. "You want to run steam out of the wand for a few seconds, just so you can make sure that the spout isn't blocked," he turned the steam on for a few seconds, one large hand splayed on Kate's belly, pulling her away from the puff of vapour. "Just wanted to make sure you didn't get burnt," He growled in her ear.

"Sure you did," Kate responded teasingly, turning her head so that the tip of her nose brushed against his.

Castle retaliated by pushing his hips against hers as he leaned over to grab the milk thermometer. "Baristas tend to argue about the exact temperature to serve a latte, but you don't want the temperature going past the yellow zone," he gestured to the temperature gauge at the top. "Any more than that, and you'll burn the milk."

"Which will make the whole thing taste like ass," Kate supplied helpfully.

"That's right," Castle agreed. He placed one of her hands on the jug, the other on the knob of the steam wand. "You want the jug on an angle," Castle told her, manipulating the jug to the right position, "And make sure you crank the steam all the way."

The steam was wound on and a loud roaring echoed through the tiny room. "Whoa!" He gasped, quickly adjusting the position of the jug. "You want the tip of the wand about a third of the way into the milk," he explained. "You'll know it's in the right spot when the milk makes a little kissing noise," he pressed several smacking hisses against Kate's cheek, revelling in the giggle that slipped out past her lips.

"You should notice the milk moving in a whirlpool and it shouldn't be bubbly. It should look like paint in the jug," Castle coached. He felt Kate nod from where their cheeks were pressed together. Kate twisted the steam off, pulling the jug away from the wand. Castle grabbed a cloth, wiping the steam wand clean. "Clean the steam wand, straight away. Baked on milk makes me want to barf," he confessed.

"Wimp," Kate teased.

Castle placed the two mugs of espresso on the bench. "Now tap the jug a couple of times, give it a swirl, and pour," he instructed. Kate nodded, tapping a few bubbles out of the microfoam, twirling her wrist quickly and neatly pouring milk into the cups.

"Congratulations, Detective Beckett, you just passed the Rick Castle School of Coffee Making final exam."

"And what do I get for my graduation?" Kate asked, looking up at her partner with doe eyes.

She was rewarded with a Rick Castle patented smirk, before he roguishly pressed a kiss on her smiling lips.

* * *

Victoria Gates peered through the blinds of her office. Her team really had to learn that she saw all.

She was well aware that coffee had been the love language of the writer and his muse, way before they'd been able to speak the words.

And they were damned fools if they really thought they were carrying out a clandestine romance underneath her nose.

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Reviews are like Castle giving Beckett coffee. Send the love my way guys (I need some, the way Probable Cause is going to toy with my emotions)


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